R e a l i t y
by x'Remember'Me'x
Summary: Sadstuck - Dave's realization.


**A / N: I'm sorry if this seems rushed. Well, I guess it is. I got bored at 5am and then this happened. Yeah. I write a lot of Sadstuck, I just never post it anywhere. Time to change that I suppose! Enjoy. Remember to read and review! «3**

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><p><strong>== Dave: Go home.<strong>

You open the door to an empty apartment room, the one you've lived in your whole life. The same futon, the same TV. Everything was the way it was before the game. You've never heard silence quite this loud. Even though the TV is still there, it isn't turned on like it used to be when you came home. There was not an empty pizza box in sight anymore. You actually made an attempt to clean up, you had to make your apartment look presentable at least.

You let your head drop, releasing a sigh, which to a person who did not know your circumstances, would sound as if you have given up. You have to admit, you are close to ending everything. Forgetting. It didn't feel real anymore. Nothing could change the past. Everything you had, the things you were going to become. You and him, together. No one could have broken that bond. Not in a million years. Even now, you knew he could see you from wherever he was.

**== To your bedroom, coolkid.**

Doing as you were told to do by the strange voice in your head, you make your way down the small hall that lead to the bedrooms and bathroom. Glancing quickly as you passed his door, with a sudden urge to go in...

**== Don't even fucking think about it.**

Whatever. To your bedroom, you guess. You need to get changed, anyway. Once you've arrived at requested place, you open your closet, picking out a pair of sweatpants which would do quite nicely for now, considering there is only you here now, no one would notice. They were comfortable, no complaints about the sweatpants. You lift your shirt over your head, throwing it onto your bedroom floor.

**== Examine untidy bedroom.**

It actually looked like a junkyard. For some reason, you started collecting things that you would never need. Maybe for ironic purposes, who knows. You had a few harlequinn figureines, which you kept on a shelf above your bed. Although you knew putting a shelf there was probably a bad idea, you didn't bother moving it. Sometimes, you wish it would fall off, landing straight onto your head - Hoping it would wake you up out of this crazy dream. That is, if this was all a dream. You doubted it. You would never use those harlequins anyway. Along with that, there were dirty dishes all over. Not just next to your bed, no. Piles in one corner, piles in another. On your computer desk. Man, you should probably clean up in here soon.

You stretch your arms out, before continuing to look around the room. There are clothes everywhere. You didn't care whether they were clean or dirty, they were just on the floor. This was the only room in the house you never bothered with. If you still slept in here, then you probably would. The only time you use this is for getting changed and your computer, mostly. Aswell as a room for placing your not very useful items that were full of the good memories.

The sweatpants are successfully on now, after that short distraction.

**== You still don't have a shirt on.**

Oh, yeah. You don't. Guess you forgot, cause it's so damn hot here you don't even notice anymore. Exiting the room, you head straight into the room you were denied access to earlier. Once there, you open his closest and remove one of the shirts. Holding it up to your face, you inhale the scent of what once was yours. Infact, he still is. Always will be yours. He told you that. Being able to remember how he smells in the simplest of ways is the only thing you have to keep you going. The things he would have said if he saw you in this state now. "You're a Strider, act like one." or something along those lines. Perhaps he would have been more comforting, understanding the situation, if he wasn't dead too. You wouldn't know. A lot of your friends had died. None of them of more importance to the other, but him? There was nothing that you could say to describe just how much you wanted him to ruffle your hair again, annoy you with those fucking smuppets.

**== It's okay, Dave. You can cry.**

No. "Striders don't cry." You tell yourself, still holding the shirt up to your face, smelling. Remembering. You decide it's a bit too warm outside to wear it to sleep in, especially since your AC was a bust. Instead, you walk over to his bed. The covers are all messed up. Of course they are. You sleep in here every night. It's more or less a comfort thing. You want to wake up in the morning, he's going to be there, with one arm wrapped around you, making sure you're safe. Like it used to be.

**== Please realize that is never going to happen, Dave.**

That is never coming back. You totally get that. You climb into the bed, putting the shirt you took out of his closet onto the pillow, pulling the covers over you. Everything smells of him. "You promised you wouldn't leave." There was a hint of anger in your voice, it was unexcuseable. You were angry of course. Slightly, but not completely. These things happen. Loads of kids lose parents, siblings.. You could deal with it too. The reality kept hititng you in the face like a ton of bricks. Whilst his scent lingers in the air around you, part of you wishes it didn't. It was painful. "Goodnight, Bro." You're pretty sure there is infact a tear making its way down your pale cheek right now, he wouldn't be pleased about it, you didn't care at this moment in time. "I'm sorry for getting angry at you. It wasn't your fault. I love you."


End file.
